Entre Tus Alas
by kylermalloy
Summary: Elijah gently pried his fingers apart, letting the knife clatter on the floor. "Niklaus, what did you do?" he breathed. AU, all human. Elijah comes home to find his little brother trapped in a nightmare.


Elijah didn't particularly enjoy returning to his childhood home. While he loved his little brother and sister fiercely, that house held more bad memories than good. Coming back always put a sour taste in his mouth.

He didn't have a choice, though.

The phone call from his little brother had struck fear into his heart with just one word. "'_Lijah."_

"_Niklaus, what's wrong?"_

"_Come quick. Please."_

It had been little more than a year since Elijah had left home for good. The second he had turned eighteen, he'd struck out on his own. He'd promised his siblings he would check in with them periodically, making sure they were all right. After all, he _had _left them in the sole care of their father.

So far, they'd been all right. Niklaus hadn't had to go to the hospital, and Rebekah hadn't yet called him in tears.

This, Elijah sensed, was an emergency of an entirely new caliber.

The front door was unlocked when he arrived. He pushed it open and stepped inside. "Niklaus? Rebekah?"

The front room was empty. Elijah made his way into the sitting room with a growing pit of dread in his stomach. "Niklaus?"

The sight that greeted him there stole his breath. He stumbled backward at the sight of the body, lying prone on the floor surrounded by a pool of dark red.

His little brother knelt beside the body of their father, a blank expression on his face.

"Niklaus." Elijah rushed to him, stepping gingerly over the circle of blood. He grasped Niklaus's arms and shook him. "What happened?"

Niklaus did not speak, or rather, Elijah realized, could not. His breaths came in short, uneven gasps, mouth hanging open. His eyes did not meet Elijah's, but stared past him unfocused.

He was in shock.

Elijah ran his eyes up and down his brother's body, searching for injuries. Other than a black, swelling area under his right eye, he appeared to be unharmed.

Then Elijah saw the knife.

Held loosely in his right hand, covered in the same dark blood as the pool surrounding their father.

Elijah gently pried his fingers apart, letting the knife clatter on the floor. "What did you do?" he breathed.

He looked back at Father, at the reddened hole in his shirt, just below his heart. Where all the blood had come from.

A hand squeezed around Elijah's heart as the pieces fell into place.

Their father was dead.

And Niklaus held the murder weapon.

.

Elijah was struck with a sudden panic. "Where is Rebekah?" The words came out more sharply than he intended. If Niklaus had done this to their father, it would be for good reason—more reason than usual. What if Father had done something to little Rebekah?

"In her room," Niklaus whispered. His gaze remained fixedly downward.

"Is she hurt?"

"Just frightened."

Elijah let out a sigh of relief. Their baby sister was barely past ten, and fragile.

"'Lijah." Niklaus looked up, meeting Elijah's gaze for the first time. His eyes brimmed bright with unshed tears. "What do we do?"

Casting a glance down at their father's body, at the knife that had pierced his chest, at the blood that covered Niklaus's hands and shirt, Elijah found himself unable to answer.

A million possibilities flashed through his mind, many of which involved bleach, fire, and trash bags. The righteous part of him tugged and protested against such dastardly schemes—it wasn't right. Their father, monstrous though he'd been, did not deserve that.

Yet as Elijah stared down at Niklaus's bloody hands, still clasped in his own, the weight of it screamed at him. This was _Niklaus,_ his _brother,_ and Niklaus did not deserve this. And Elijah would do anything to protect his brother. He'd break any law, violate everything sacred. Anyth—

A sharp rap at the door startled them both.

"_Hello? Police. We got a call about a disturbance. Is everything all right in there?"_

Niklaus let out a soft whimper.

Elijah's head spun. Could they run? If they remained silent, could they avoid answering the door?

"Go get Rebekah," he whispered to Niklaus. "If I stall, if you slip out the back—"

"No," Niklaus interrupted hoarsely. "No, brother. I won't spend the rest of my days running."

He met Elijah's gaze earnestly. "It's all right," he murmured, though his huge eyes screamed otherwise, pleading for help.

Elijah rose to his feet and numbly made his way to the front door, preparing for what would probably be the longest night of his life.

.

They didn't arrest him right away, miraculously.

The uniformed officers had been prepared to respond to a domestic disturbance, not a graphic murder scene.

Elijah had glued himself to Niklaus's side while the officers called for backup and began to take statements.

Niklaus's testimony was broken and fearful, almost inaudible. "_We were in the kitchen. He was angry—he's always angry. And there were the knives, and he—"_

"_Which one of you went for the knives first?"_

"_I… Me."_

"_What was he doing to you? What does your father do when he's angry?"_

"_Hits."_

"_Does he do that often? Were you afraid for your life?"_

"_I…"_

"_Chr*st, kid, speak up. I'm asking if you were defending yourself."_

Elijah had wanted to grab the man and shake him by his shoulders. _Can't you see his face? His eye? This is what happens to him. Over and over and over. Of course he was defending himself._

But he hadn't. As always, in the face of an authority figure, Elijah had failed to stand up for his little brother.

They'd taken Elijah's statement, and Rebekah's, once they pried her, mute and terrified, from her room.

The three of them sat side by side on their entryway bench while their sitting room was converted into a forensic lab.

Niklaus was in the middle, with Elijah on his left. Rebekah sat on his right, arms wrapped around her torso. She seemed to still be in shock.

Niklaus kept his head bowed, eyes fixed on his fingers clasped tightly in front of him. Though they'd allowed him to clean his hands, blood still decorated the front of his shirt like a bad paint spill.

His shallow breaths hitched and shook, like he was seconds away from bursting into tears.

Elijah reached over and gently took Niklaus's hands in his own. His little brother's hands trembled uncontrollably.

Elijah gripped his fingers tighter. "Breathe, Niklaus."

This was familiar, at least. Niklaus was by no means delicate, but his soft, dreamy nature had always drawn their father's wrath far more than he deserved. And ever since they'd lost their mother, ever since the truth about Niklaus had been made known, Father's anger had only deepened. Since then, Elijah had watched the brother he knew and loved retreat into himself until he was someone almost unrecognizable. Someone who lived and breathed fear like a drug.

"T-they…" Niklaus took a deep breath before continuing. "They're going to…soon. They'll arrest me. You know they will."

And as much as Elijah's body, his entire _being,_ screamed against it, he knew Niklaus was right. The blood had been quite literally on his hands. As far as murder cases went, this one was simple.

That didn't make it _easy._

Niklaus had spent most of his life terrified of their father. Now, although he'd escaped from under his thumb, he'd done nothing but trade one torment for another.

Just when he'd taken some semblance of control over his life, fought back against their father, he was about to lose all control.

And Elijah was helpless to protect him. As always.

Still holding his trembling hands, Elijah put one arm around Niklaus, resting his free hand on his back. He leaned in close to rest his forehead against Niklaus's temple. "What were you thinking?" he murmured.

Niklaus exhaled. He did not speak, but Elijah felt his fingers clench and unclench.

"Niklaus," he repeated. "What were you _thinking?_"

"I…I wasn't. He was so angry. I was…so afraid."

"If they…" Elijah suppressed his own shudder, unable to finish his sentence. "I have tried to protect you. All my life. I cannot protect you…if you're in…if you…"

Niklaus squeezed his eyes shut. He leaned into Elijah's embrace, letting their bodies press together.

Elijah's stomach twisted, knowing that Niklaus only sought such comfort, such intimacy, out of a paralyzing terror he could never voice.

Niklaus knew fear well. This was something altogether different.

"Please talk to me," Elijah breathed. He needed to hear his brother's voice. How long would it be before he heard it again? When would be the next time he could wrap his arms around him? Hold his hand?

"You have to take care of Rebekah." Niklaus's voice was hoarse and low, barely audible. "You're all she has, with Mother gone, and Father…"

"I will." Elijah nodded. He squeezed his brother's hand so tightly Niklaus flinched. "I'm sorry."

A flurry of activity from the other room caused Niklaus to let out a strangled gasp. Elijah turned to see a team of jacketed officials escort a bodybagged stretcher through the front room.

On Niklaus's other side, Rebekah let out a tiny sob.

A weight of finality settled over Elijah like a heavy, suffocating blanket. It was really over. Niklaus was truly free of their father.

But the cost.

Elijah slid his hand up Niklaus's shoulders to cup the back of his neck.

"Listen to me, brother. I promise I will work on this. I will not let you go to prison. I won't rest until—"

Niklaus shook his head vigorously, freeing himself from Elijah's grasp. "No. Please. Please don't. It's not that simple."

"It is. You acted in self-defense. We can all attest that—"

"Please, Elijah." Niklaus met Elijah's eyes with more sadness than Elijah could fathom. "I'm asking you. This one time, leave me be." The bluish ring around the bottom of his right eye gave him a gaunt appearance, looking far grimmer and older than any fifteen-year-old had a right to be.

Elijah's brow creased in confusion. His brother had brushed off their father's abuse for years—_it's not that bad, leave it alone._ But this… This _was_ something they could fight against. Elijah could truly help him win this.

Why was he refusing?

"Niklaus. What aren't you telling me?"

"Nik," Rebekah whispered. She tugged on his shirt.

"Not now, Bekah."

"Please. You can't. You have to—"

Niklaus raised one hand to her face, palm out, as if to cut off the rest of her protest. "_No."_

Elijah peered around Niklaus at their little sister. Her tear-streaked face was absolutely white under her swath of freckles. "Rebekah?"

Her lower lip trembled. It reminded Elijah of her expression whenever Father forced her to confess some trivial wrongdoing.

"Don't," Niklaus whispered through gritted teeth. His hands formed fists under Elijah's.

Rebekah's eyes darted to the men in the other room. "Let me tell him," she argued. "He needs to know."

"Know what," Elijah began to ask, although a misty suspicion was already forming in the back of his mind. _No. Please, no._

"Bekah," Niklaus pleaded. "Don't. Please. Let me." He began to rock back and forth, a tiny, frantic motion.

Elijah could feel a burning start to prick behind his eyes as he watched Niklaus struggle. "It wasn't you. Was it?"

Without raising his head or meeting Elijah's eyes, Niklaus shook his head furtively.

An icy chill ran through Elijah's veins. He could not move—the revelation had paralyzed him.

This was the knowledge that had stolen Niklaus's voice, that had propelled Rebekah into her bedroom. This was the reason for Niklaus's protests, the terrible truth—even more nightmarish than what Elijah had originally thought.

He had not killed their father.

Rebekah had.

.

Elijah ran a hand through his hair.

_What do I do?_

His little brother, who was quaking like a leaf beside him, was about to be arrested for a murder that their baby sister had committed.

"How did this happen?" he asked dazedly.

Niklaus began to speak in a quiet, measured voice. "Father was angry. She feared for my life. She intervened before I could stop her." He drew in a tremulous breath, tilting his head to one side in the very picture of helplessness. "And when the deed was done, I told her to go to her room. I cleaned the knife's handle. And I went to her and told her, if anyone asked, to say she had hidden the moment she heard raised voices."

Rebekah curled into a ball on the bench, knees drawn up to her chest.

Elijah sat stunned. His entire world had just shrunk to the three of them, in their own little sphere that was as tightly knit today as it was the day they made a childhood promise to each other.

Niklaus had just made a series of choices—good or bad, depending on whose perspective—to protect their sister. Yet in doing so he'd robbed Elijah of any opportunity to protect _him._ He'd provided the necessary evidence, he'd all but confessed to the authorities…what could Elijah possibly do to shield his brother from this beautiful, idiotic mistake?

He still held one of Niklaus's hands in his own. Elijah stroked his thumb over one knuckle, the only movement his stupefied body could manage.

For years, Elijah had fiercely guarded Niklaus's soul from the yawning darkness that loomed over his life. Whenever Niklaus had fallen apart, Elijah had been there to pick up the pieces—though always lamenting his inability to prevent such tragedies in the first place.

Mother had always said he was a natural caretaker. His shoulders uniquely molded for others to lean on.

Elijah had both loved and hated her theory—the responsibility seemed overwhelming. And he doubted his shoulder had been molded to support anyone except his little brother.

Now he couldn't even do that.

"I don't know what to do."

"Do nothing. Let me protect Rebekah. Like you have always done for me."

Elijah shook his head doggedly, stubbornly. "I will not let you go," he murmured. "I will _never_ let go."

But at the same time, while he looked into his brother's eyes, his heart throbbed for Rebekah, her shining face peeking at them from the other side of Niklaus.

Rebekah, their hot-tempered, emotional little sister, who loved and defended her two brothers with a ferocity beyond her years. Who was quick to act and quick to regret. Who hid at the sound of a raised voice yet, when provoked, would fight anyone on earth to protect the people she loved.

And she had certainly done that.

At ten years old, she had done what Elijah had been too afraid to do his whole life.

From the moment their father had first struck Niklaus, from the time it had become clear that he harbored a special hatred for Niklaus, for his mother's secret, Elijah had been torn in two. It was a delicate, destructive line he walked—the need that resided deep in his bones to protect his brother, tied into the straitjacket of fearing and obeying his father.

For years, he'd tried to scheme up ways of getting Niklaus away from their father, legal ways, clean ways—and Rebekah had taken care of everything with one very rash, very permanent decision.

_Rebekah, the fiercest and bravest of us all._

Elijah could not help the soft, gentle smile that formed as he looked at his little sister, a terrible pride welling in his chest. Pride—sullied by the knowledge that Niklaus would suffer for her actions.

.

"Okay, son."

One of the officers stood over them, looking down at Niklaus with a grim expression.

Niklaus swallowed and stood.

Before he could think, Elijah shot to his feet, hands locking around his little brother's arms.

"No," he heard himself say. He felt numb. He choked on a swarm of protests that threatened to tumble from his lips. _It wasn't him, it was me. I helped him. I did this._

_Please, just let me come with him. Somehow._

He clung to Niklaus, the stinging in his eyes growing more and more insistent.

The guilt, the helplessness, clanged in his head like strikes of a bell. _You're abandoning him. You are letting him down. You failed. You failed you failed you failedyoufailed._

How could he let Niklaus go like this?

"Elijah." Niklaus's voice was rough. His wide eyes screamed a thousand words he could not say in front of the officer. "Please. Look after her. Don't—don't let anything happen to her."

Both of them looked down at Rebekah, who sniffled up at them, wiping her eyes on her overlong shirtsleeve.

For once, it was Rebekah who needed protection. "I won't. You have my word."

As he relinquished his grip on Niklaus, allowing the officer to cuff his little brother's hands behind him, Elijah felt something tear inside of him. The pain felt like his vital organs, his heart, his lungs, were literally being ripped apart.

"I don't know how to do this," he said softly. _Yes, I do. I know exactly how to step back and allow you to be hurt. I have done it every day of your life._

"You—you've given up so much for me. For us." Niklaus's glassy eyes finally began to spill over, his terror once again getting the better of his determined bravado. "Let me, this once…" His chest heaved as he suppressed a sob.

Elijah grabbed him in an abrupt hug, pulling his head down into his shoulder. Cradling his little brother like he'd done so many time before. This time, painfully aware that Niklaus could not hug him back.

In spite of the cuffs, Elijah knew Niklaus still clung to him with every fiber of his being.

Hot tears seeped through Elijah's shirt. Elijah kept one hand on Niklaus's head, holding him against his shoulder—the one perfect fit—until Niklaus inhaled shakily, containing his tears. He raised his head and offered Elijah some faint semblance of a smile.

"My brother," Elijah breathed, mirroring his weak smile. "So brave." His throat scratched over the last word, wavering with barely contained emotion.

He held Niklaus's face between his hands and brought their foreheads together. "I promise—I will not abandon you. I will get you help. We will see this through, and you will come home. I swear to you."

Niklaus nodded, leaning into Elijah with a wordless intensity bordering on desperation. This frightened him, so much more than he could admit.

The officer, who'd all but disappeared to Elijah, tugged Niklaus backwards, breaking their embrace. Elijah stood rooted to the spot, his hands cradling empty air where his brother had been. He couldn't even turn his head to watch the uniformed officers lead Niklaus out the front door.

"'Lijah," Rebekah whimpered. Her voice, so little and plaintive, snapped Elijah out of his spellbound state. Rebekah needed him.

He knelt beside her, gathering her against him. Holding her little body, his arms felt too empty.

"Are you angry with me?" Rebekah whispered the question into his ear.

"Of course not," Elijah murmured. He could never be angry with her. He did not blame her. This cycle of violence was not her fault.

The front door closed like a shot, making both of them jump.

The sound reverberated through Elijah's body, shattering something vital.

"Nik," Rebekah cried, burying her face in Elijah's shoulder with renewed tears.

"Shh," Elijah soothed her. He couldn't help the hollow note that crept into his voice, the way he ached after his brother, the anthem of failure blaring into his skull.

As Rebekah sobbed into his shoulder, as Elijah held her, he felt some fundamental part of himself slip away with Niklaus.

* * *

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